


Close [ls mpreg]

by Nahmar



Category: 1D - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Depressed Louis, Depression, Dr Styles, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Paranoia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 04:18:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9862163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nahmar/pseuds/Nahmar
Summary: Louis goes to see a shrink. Harry Styles is a licensed counselor who falls in love with his patient and may accidentally even get him pregnant, too.





	1. The Aura of Success

Louis was not fond of the idea of this. He did not agree with Elliot when he said he needed to go see a shrink. Though, he figured out of anyone around him to have a good opinion about it, it would be Elliot. I mean, E lived with him for christ sakes.

He scoffed to himself in the waiting room with the ceiling that was completely asymmetrical for the look that the engineer was probably going for. He looked down at the book that was lying down on the coffee table in front of him with all the other seats sat around it, spread out a good amount so that the few other people sitting around weren't uncomfortable with how close they were to Louis.

The book had a cheesy white cover with some yellow shapes on it, with some baby blue splatters that looked like paint had been spattered all over the cover. He let out a quick and heavy annoyed breath, as he turned over the cover to find a black and white picture of a man with a curly bun and glasses. He had an earring, and Louis found that this image was rather disgustingly fitting for the title and front cover.

"The Aura of Success." He grunted as he opened the book, judgmentally of course. He was just way too bored to be sitting there doing nothing for another minute waiting on this stupid shrink to get out of his office and come tend to his new client. It wasn't like he wanted to read the book. He was successful on his own, anyways. He was doing just fine in life, thank you very much.

He was about eight pages into the book when a female voice called out from the office space where the receptionists worked. He got up and hurried over to the counter where the woman had the glass slid open, instead of closed like all the other women at the desks were so they could lean over and drone on about pointless water cooler gossip.

"Louis Tomlinson?" The woman with brown hair looked up from her computer that sat at the right end of her little desk behind the separated space between her and the client of the facility.

"That's right." He confirmed, nodding slightly, way too nervous about it to be acting like he didn't want to be there whatsoever.

"He just wants you to fill out this quick little questionnaire before you go back and talk to him. It's nothing too long, but it does get a bit in depth, so if you're uncomfortable answering it for now, you aren't obligated to comply to every question." She said, handing him a few pieces of paper attached to a clipboard and a pen held up by the clip's little holder for it.

Louis nodded and went to take the little questionnaire back to his seat. Of course, to his luck, someone had found their way to his seat, and he had to find a whole new seat in the corner by the bathrooms. It smelled, and it made Louis feel way too grimy. He almost couldn't even focus on the quiz.

With each answer he bubbled in, he started to get more frustrated with the quiz, finding the questions to be rigged to find something wrong with him. There was nothing wrong with him, and he knew this bloke was going to try to find something about him to hold against him and call some disease origin. He refused to be diagnosed with anything today. He was perfectly fine, and no one saw that.

After about thirty questions of complete idiocracy, he had finished his little emotional survey. He turned it back into the woman at the front desk, who thanked him with a frown on her face that she had been wearing the whole time Louis had been in there. He went back to his seat by the grungy bathrooms, and found himself subconsciously wishing he had that book back in his hands. Just something to do and find flaws with.

No one actually could live a happy life from thinking positively and just changing your thoughts about your situations, Louis thought.

Of course, Louis wasn't happy. So, he couldn't exactly say anything negative about this man's theory. But he would anyways. Because he found all this shrink business to be bullshit.

He waited and waited, getting more and more impatient by the second, until eventually a man's deep voice called his name from behind the corner hidden by the wall concealing the bathroom doors. He was at the edge of the waiting room, and Louis was at the opposite end. He was so far away he almost didn't hear his name.

"Louis Tomlinson?" The man called out again, slightly louder this time. Louis was gathering his things and hurried over to the man before he either went back and dismissed his appointment, which Louis wouldn't mind entirely too much if he hadn't already paid the copay, or called his name a third time.

When Louis turned the corner and looked up from the floor, always making sure he didn't trip, he found something he never in a million years thought he would see.

It was the man from the book.

This man, his shrink, had written The Aura of Success. He looked exactly like the cover, too. A curly bun on top of his head, round glasses that framed his face perfectly, and silver earrings that complimented the bun.

Of course, he didn't have the leather jacket on, but instead had a brown sweater and some khakis, and comfortable looking shoes.

Louis was impressed, but also wasn't impressed at the same time.

Well, it was more like refused to be impressed by the man. He would not look up to this man just because he took some psychology courses that Louis knew were absolutely full of crap. He would not look up to this man because he had a degree and Louis hadn't even finished high school. He would not look up to this man because he had a genuine smile on his face that made Louis feel almost instantly ten times more comfortable than the moment he walked in.

"Thanks for coming to talk today." The man said with the same smile, but this time he held out his hand to shake with Louis.

Louis was almost taken aback. No one ever really wanted to shake his hand. He was.. dirty, people thought. This man had to know that, he knew he didn't have insurance and he knew that he didn't have a stable job, as seen by his form he had filled out first thing when he came in. Separate to the questionnaire.

But, he shook his hand anyways. Louis' small hand was engulfed almost perfectly by this man's.

"Yeah, n-no problem." Louis said as he shook his hand and then let go at the appropriate time. Though Louis felt it to be awkward still.

"If you'll follow me we can go back to my office and get started, yeah?" The man said and began walking down the long, brown hallway with doors evenly on either side. At least the offices were symmetrical. Perfectly adjacent.

Louis followed in suit and was almost nervous to say anything, but the words spilled out like the wine had when he knocked over the glass out of anger the night Elliot told him he had set up an appointment with a shrink.

"I didn't catch your name. I, uh, someone else set up the appointment for me so I really don't know much of anything about this place or anyone here." He said, playing with his fingers nervously. Anxiety pumping through his veins just from speaking about not knowing about this place.

"Oh, that's quite alright. Everyone is here for a purpose, no matter the reason. I'm Dr. Styles." He said, turning to see Louis, with a gentle comforting look about him.

Louis nodded and watched as Dr. Styles unlocked the door to his office, and led him inside. It was rather large, with lots of bookshelves filled with hardback insights on the brain and how exactly it may work.

Dr. Styles sat in a chair that was open, his desk to the side of the wall facing out a window. He was facing Louis as he sat on the plush couch, wondering how many other gross people had sat on the furniture before him.

"Don't worry, it's clean. Fairly new, actually." The man spoke, and Louis was immediately creeped out. How did he know..?

"Y-yeah.. Don't read my thoughts.." he said quietly, almost in a whisper as he looked off into a daze, though looking down at Dr. Styles' shoes.

"Louis, no one can read your thoughts. You're safe in your mind. Remember that, okay? It's just study of psychology. Body language hints." He assured him as he got out a clipboard and a fresh new piece of paper, and his lucky pen. He would need it today. Especially with a client like Louis. 

"Yeah, Elliot says I got problems with paranoia." Louis sighed. He didn't realize it yet, but he was letting out things he would never share with anyone else already. He was getting way too comfortable around this man.

"And who is Elliot to you?" Dr. Styles asked as he wrote something down on the paper attached to the clipboard. Louis watched as the pen scribbled down something on the paper. If he had been in the room with Dr. Styles earlier when he was aggravated, or if Dr. Styles hadn't shown that great of compassion for him, he would have questioned him about it. 'What are you writing down? Do you look down on me, you psych bullshitting shrink?' But he said nothing about it and just answered the question.

"My roommate. We are close. We share the flat together." Louis explained.

"How close?"

"H-how close?" Louis repeated the question. Dr. Styles nodded. 

"Well, we are just friends. Never would be anything more. But he cares for me domestically like that. I don't know what to make of it, honestly. Some days I like him like that, some days I don't. Some days I see myself with him, some days I don't. But I would never take it any further than the friendship we have now." Louis said. It was complicated.

Elliot was an office drone at customer support for a cable company, and when he wasn't worn out from work, he was very caring for Louis. He always knew when something was wrong and cared, but Louis never opened up to anyone. Ever.

He kept to himself. Maybe that's why he was as overflowing as all those mugs of beer down at the bar he went to every other evening.

He was sucked back into reality when Dr. Styles' pen scratching against the paper was the only sound echoing in the room, ringing through Louis' ears.

"I looked over your questionnaire a bit before I called you back with me. I just have a few questions about some of your answers." He said, and began reading off the paper.

"'I sometimes have fits of desperation or rage that get so bad that I black out and can't remember what happened later on.' You bubbled in 'Most of the time'. What do those fits look like to you? Describe them to me." He said, resting his head on his hand, looking at Louis with complete attention.

"I guess.. I guess it looks like just getting so sad that I can't remember who I am. I feel like literally nothing. I can't do anything but cry and shake. It happens in public sometimes and I can't remember a thing. Who I am, even. My identity. I can't go out without Elliot anymore because he's afraid something will happen to compromise my safety." Louis said, looking off in the distance for a minute before seeing how intently Dr. Styles was listening. Like he gave a damn.

It warmed something inside Louis slightly.

"What do you think sets you off? What makes you get into that state that you can identify?" Dr. Styles asked as he wrote down something else on the paper as well.

"The constant thought of being alone. The train of thought that I'm alone at all times. With people or not. Everyone has ulterior motives with me." Louis said, fiddling with his hands nervously. Dr. Styles paused, knowing Louis would admit more to him in enough silence.

"Everyone leaves. No one ever stays. I understand why. I'm a shit person, honestly. I'm ugly, fat.. I'm mean to everyone I meet.." Tears welled up in Louis' eyes. He had promised himself that he would not open up to anyone about this, but specifically this shrink. And here he was, about to cry in front of him the first session.

Dr. Styles handed him a box of tissues, and Louis dried his eyes and sighed. "I just know that every good thing that ever happens never lasts. I wish I was never born." He admitted. "I just want it all to stop."

Dr. Styles was obviously concerned with what he had just said. He scooted closer in his wheeled chair, and looked Louis deep in the eyes.

"Louis, I can tell you right now just from meeting you a half hour ago, you are not a shit person. I can promise you you'll never be alone, and that you will always have me. I know it sounds weird, but if you ever have an emergency or need someone to talk to," Dr. Styles rustled through the slight mess on his desk and pulled out a special little card. "You can call the second number. It's my cell." He said. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do anything irrational because you feel alone. Because you're not alone. Not at all. You have plenty of people who will be by your side. And I can promise you from this day forward, even if you stop seeing me, you will have me."


	2. Sharp

Louis felt shame in himself whenever he would pick up on those bad habits, especially the one that ended in dripping blood off his arms and onto the gross yellow linoleum flooring of his flat's bathroom. He thought it was a teenager's escape from reality, but it worked well enough for him to continue to do it. It was just embarrassing when he got caught. Elliot always made a big fuss about it and it usually made Louis go off on him, resulting in Louis sleeping on the couch in the living area. Elliot's failed strategy was always to punish Louis for his use of his terrible habit to get rid of the thoughts that consumed his mind that threatened to do worse than just cutting. It was never deep, anyways, so Louis didn't see the fuss about it. Louis felt like a pussy because he never went deep enough to really get that pain circulating. To feel his heartbeat in his arm to remind him that it was still beating and still alive. Like the opposite of what he felt.

So Louis was sitting in the bathroom with the sharp metal razor in his hand, molding it over in his fingers, in deep thought. He wasn't crying for the first time while doing this, and he was just numb. Numb. Numb. Numb.

Maybe it was in just "in his brain" that he had to repeat some words sometimes more than once. Or maybe it was a part of who he was like Elliot would bullshit to him, but he never really knew why. It just felt right. Like a little tick in his brain that told him if he did it four times, it would feel better.

But nothing ever really made him feel any better. Not the razor that he was now dragging across his arm, not the ticks of repetition, not the half-hearted blowjobs he would ask Elliot for, and Elliot would give it to him just because he felt bad. 

Louis felt manipulative for that. It was a certain type of guilt that formed in his stomach whenever Elliot's lips wrapped around his cock and he sucked him off. After it was all said and done, Louis just wanted out of that flat. He wanted to go back to living with his mother who was struggling with carrying his soon to be new brother and sister. Why did he ever leave her in the first place, anyways? She was ill and she needed someone to lean on. 

But she had her new husband to lean on for now. Louis wasn't in the right state to be the one to help them out right now. He absolutely could not help his mother when he was rocking back and forth on the bathroom floor with blood leaking from his cuts down his arm. 

It was always one arm that held every single scratch or cut. The right. 

It reminded him of the simple fact that Dr. Styles had many rings, but only on his right hand. A thumb, index finger, and ring finger ring. They were all absolutely fitting for his long fingers and large hands. 

Dr. Styles had a tattoo on his left hand of a little cross, and it intrigued Louis. People told him that usually tattoos held meaning for people, and Louis could barely contain his curiosity of what it meant for him. He wanted tattoos someday. But he also knew that not many artists would want to work on a canvass filled with cuts and uneven scars in his skin. 

Louis found himself getting up off the bathroom floor and hiding away his little razor and dabbing the blood up off his arm and the floor, and then leaving the bathroom fairly quickly. He had a mission now. He was just almost giddy with the anticipation of what he was about to do. It was a sickeningly happy feeling in his gut. He knew it would end terribly, but he wanted to do it anyways. 

Elliot would be back from his late night shift at the diner at any second now, so he had a short amount of time to do this. He was frantically searching through his pockets in every pair of pants that lay crumpled up in his dirty laundry hamper. 

It felt like there was a guitar in the background of a movie as he found the little card and ran through the flat to the kitchen to grab his phone. He dialed the number that he knew would be getting him into trouble at this time of night, but he just had to say it. He had to come clean, or he never would get clean. He needed to talk. He hadn't been open about his life for years, and this one man, this one man who had a cheesy book and bifocal glasses at age twenty five had gotten him wanting to spill out ever single fact about him. Every meaningless piece of memory he had from his shitty childhood, his past relationships, anything he could think of. Anything he could get this man to listen to. He would blurt it out and shout it from the rooftops. He needed to be free and open about everything after these last ten years. 

As the phone rang, the rush of adrenaline was surging stronger and stronger with every sound, until finally, at this late in the night, there was a voice on the other end. 

"This is Harry." He said, and Louis could hear some typing away at a keyboard in the background. Good, he was awake. "May I ask who's calling?" He spoke again before Louis got the chance to explain himself.

"Oh, uh, well, it's Louis. The new patient from three days ago? I know it's awfully soon to be calling, after all we just met and I don't know.. Anyways, I just.. need to talk. I need to let out all this shit that's been bothering me for years." Louis said. The typing on the other end stopped when Harry, or Dr. Styles, heard that it was Louis. After Louis got done practically shouting and speaking as fast as the wind blew some stormy nights, he heard a chair squeak and there was a slight pause on the other end before Dr. Styles spoke again. 

"Louis, are you alright? Have you done anything to hurt yourself? This is unusual behavior, it seems.." He said. He sounded concerned and willing to help Louis. 

"I.. yeah, I have. I cut. Not deep, but.." He said, and suddenly the high went down and he felt extremely embarrassed and ashamed. Like Dr. Styles would judge him.

"Louis, would you like to meet me out somewhere and we can chat a bit? I don't mind at all if that's what you think you'd need right now." He said instead of any hint of judgement. Louis smiled slightly to himself, wanting nothing more but to meet him face to face right now. 

"Yes, please, only if you don't mind." 

"I wouldn't mind a bit. How about we meet at Sam's down by the river?" Dr. Styles suggested. That wasn't too far from Louis' flat. It was a nice little diner, and he could walk there in no time. It would be perfect.

"Yeah, sounds great. Thank you so much. I'll, uh, see you there." 

"Bye, Louis."


End file.
